Page 110 of The Moonborn's Curse

Veyr left the bags near the threshold and stepped aside. Seren climbed the stairs like a sleepwalker and disappeared into the loft.

She didn't undress.

She just curled onto the mattress, clutching one of the pillows to her chest like a lifeline.

Veyr pulled the quilt over her.

He didn't say goodbye. Didn't offer promises or reassurances.

But as he turned to leave, his eyes caught the silvery trail of tears slipping silently from her closed eyes into the pillow.

His hand tightened on the doorframe.

The wood splintered beneath his grip.

Then he walked away.

Chapter 42

Hagan

The door clicked shut behind her.

Hagan's composure splintered like fragile glass.

She was gone.

Not with fire. Not with screaming. But with silence and finality.

Veyr glanced at him—just once—then turned without a word and followed Seren into the deepening twilight.

The bond buzzed in Hagan's chest like a hornet's nest—frantic, disoriented, bleeding. It felt wrong, unbalanced. Hollow. Her absence pulsed through him, louder and louder. Like his ribs had been carved out from the inside.

His body twitched forward on instinct—he needed to follow her, to explain, to fix it.

But Draken stepped into his path.

"Let me pass," Hagan growled, his voice low and frayed with desperation.

"No."

"She needs me—!"

"She needs space," Draken said, his tone sharp, hard as stone. "And you need to face what you've done."

Hagan shoved him, fury flaring.

But Draken didn't move.

Behind him, the longhouse was still. No one spoke. No one dared.

The silence was louder than any judgment.

Hagan's hands dropped, useless at his sides. All the fight drained from him, all the strength that had built over months now gone in a single breath. He turned, staggering like a wounded animal, and collapsed onto the nearest bench.

His elbows dug into his knees. His hands were buried in his hair.

"What do I do?" he whispered.

---